


Salve

by Nemhaine42



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemhaine42/pseuds/Nemhaine42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediate Avengers aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_‘Maybe this wasn’t the best idea ever.’_

Darcy was standing just behind a door that would lead her into a high security infirmary room. One in Stark Tower that had been commandeered for SHIELD to keep certain people away from prying eyes. 

She could go in if she wanted. That she’d gotten this far at all was down to her, well, stealing Erik Selvig’s security key-card. He was currently in a room further upstairs, sedated and feverish, recovering from the effects of being brainwashed… so it wasn’t like he needed it for anything. Darcy hadn’t really planned on it using. Okay, so maybe she’d had the idea to use it to find something to actually do and started poking around a few floors that were out of her clearance. Sitting in a conference room full of military cot beds watching all the other people of SHIELD and Stark Industries that couldn’t go home yet just wasn’t doing it for her.

The card had gained her access to every door she’d tried already. She wasn’t quite sure why a SHIELD security key was getting her into the bowels of Stark Industries but she wasn’t going to question what, so far, seemed like good luck.

But she hadn’t planned on getting quite so close to the eye of the storm. It was Thor’s fault. She’d heard the big guy’s voice booming from down a corridor, yelling at someone to keep still. She couldn’t really tell what he was doing through the little window, but she could hear rebukes and dismissals - “it cannot be so bad as that”, “you are making it worse!” - echoing forth. She’d not heard him so grouchy since he first dropped to Earth.

Even so, she’d missed him. Erik being confiscated by the Men in Black and Jane whisked away to some place in Norway had left Darcy a little stranded. While she’d been removed from the Bifrost site and brought to New York, she didn’t have anything to keep herself busy. Officially, she only worked for Jane, rather than SHIELD, so it wasn’t as if she could find anyone she knew to ‘assist’. She couldn’t even tidy anything like she did when Jane ran out of tasks for her. Maybe a shout-out from the God of Thunder would boost her ranking enough to not feel like excess baggage.

Well, that had been the hastily-thrown-together, half-baked plan. Now here she was peering through a little glass window, hand getting slowly burned by the enormous polystyrene cup of coffee she’d brought for Thor, wondering just where in the hell she was going with this. With an illicit key-card. Essentially, breaking in. Fraud, or something like that. The exploring where no-one was looking hadn’t felt this risky. But now there’d be a witness. What if Thor was angry with her? What if he didn’t want her around? She was going to end up getting arrested for this, for sure. Did SHIELD arrest people? Or did they just make them disappear?

_‘Note to self: don’t find out.’_

Her stomach turned to ice as she swiped the card to open the door.

_‘This is you not finding out?’_

“Uh… delivery for Odinsson?” Darcy pointed to the coffee and tried to ignore the squeak in her voice.

“Darcy!!” Thor’s tired face pricked up and into that endearing puppy-dog smile when his eyes found her. “Come forth! It is good to see you well.”

Thor didn’t get up but gestured for her to come further towards him. Darcy’s widening eyes were immediately drawn to the figure on the bed beside him. On his side and handcuffed to the bed, beaten to hell and looking like he was in a lot of pain, Loki, God of Mischief, stared into the middle distance. Her heart sped up at the sight of how tall he was and, although not quite the brick shit house his brother was, she realized just how perfectly unable she’d be to defend herself if he decided she was not welcome. The cuffs that held him looked fancy but the bed frame worryingly normal and she wondered if it was really sufficient.

“He will not harm you, Darcy. You have my word.” Her feet moved closer to Thor on the other side of the bed, although her eyes didn’t move from his suffering sibling. Sporting a black eye and a large bruise that constituted his ribcage, he seemed plagued by the same feverishness as Erik. He didn’t seem very aware and Darcy chastised herself for the pang of sympathy that wriggled inside her.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, Loki’s eyes, hazy and struggling to focus, darted towards her - only for a moment - before returning to a non-existent spot between him and the far wall.

The recognition - if you could call it that - but lack of reaction turned her stomach from ice to jelly and she finally looked down to what Thor was doing behind Loki’s back.

Thor was in the middle of trying to clean the worst of the blood and dirt from a series of gashes in his brother’s back, no doubt a result of his altercation with the Hulk. Oh, she’d heard. Very few people hadn’t. Unfortunately, all Thor was really succeeding in was spreading the stuff around and getting it all over himself as well. Darcy’s stomach churned but she couldn’t look away and numbly held out the cup for him to take.

“I…uh… brought your favourite.”

Following her line of sight, Thor smiled sheepishly and was reluctant to reach out to his friend with bloody hands. He dabbed a red-saturated washcloth hesitantly at a particularly gory wound. She guessed that maybe Asgardian medical practice was different from its Earthly counterpart; he didn’t seem all that confident in what he was doing. Loki grunted in pain and tried to arch away from the treatment, cursing his brother quite dramatically. He coughed wetly and the sympathy stopped wriggling and started hammering on the inside of her chest. She’d seen plenty of nurses and doctors zipping around upstairs when she’d visited Erik. But no-one down here. Thor was doing this because nobody else cared to. Not that Darcy could blame them, this was Loki’s own doing. But she knew what it was to be abandoned, when it mattered to no-one what happened to you. The last few days in SHIELD’s custody made sure of that.

“You wanna swap? You take the coffee and I’ll play nurse?”

“Do not concern yourself. What pain my brother feels is well-earned.” His longing look at her cup said something completely different.

“Seriously, dude, you look exhausted. I’ll take over.”

Thor opened his mouth to protest yet again when Loki looked back over his shoulder, his hands clanking the suspiciously hi-tech cuffs against the metal bed frame.

“By all means do. You cannot be worse than your predecessor.” Loki’s clipped tone was shaky and tinged with sickness and pain. She wondered just how long they’d been at this that the God of Mischief was willing to turn to little-mortal-her for relative relief.

“Brother-”

“Do not call me that.” Another wet-sounding cough. “I would rather bleed to death than have you continue.” And his head lolled back down onto the pillow, it too stained with blood and bits of Stark’s floor.

“If you would remain still, I could work all the faster and be done with this.” Clearly this was the argument they’d been having the entire time. Thor was trying to treat his brother’s injuries but Loki was in too much pain to appreciate it.

“Oookay. Thor, buddy. Here - coffee. Take it.” She mustered her best impression of confidence and reached down to his wrist, bringing his hand up to the cup. She tried to guide him up and out of his chair, hoping he’d let her. He certainly wouldn’t budge if he didn’t want to. But rise he did, taking the coffee from her and walking around to the other side of the bed to look Loki in the face.

Darcy picked up the stained washcloth as tentatively as possible and dropped it in the nearest garbage can. Trying to ignore the Thunder God watching her, her thoughts were rattled as she busied herself with gathering supplies.

_‘Th-think on your feet, Darcy. Th-this is an infirmary, right? Bound to be a f-first-aid kit around here… someplace.’_

A door just along the wall lead to a bathroom where she picked up some fresh towels and cloths. The cupboards, thankfully, contained bandages, gauze and all manner of medical-looking things she supposed Thor wouldn’t have thought to search for.

As she ran hot water into a bowl, she couldn’t help but overhear as Thor hissed a warning to his sibling.

“If you harm her, if you so much as speak ill to her, I shall make you regret it.”

“What reason have I to hurt the blasted creature?” Loki spat in return, “She is relieving me of your infernal ‘help’.”

If it were anybody else, Darcy might have been tempted to poke him extra-hard in the ribs for the referring to her as a creature of any description. This time, probably a bad idea. She supposed it ought to be a relief that Loki had no intentions of attacking her but it didn’t really calm her nerves.

_‘He thinks I know what I’m doing. No pressure at all.’_

Darcy cleared her throat as she brought the bowl of water through and sat in the previously vacated chair. Tucking one of the larger towels under her new patient, she noted the sheets would need changed too. But that would involve physically moving the God of Mischief.

_‘Baby steps, Darce, baby steps.’_

She desperately tried, in vain, to recall what she was meant to have learned at that First-Aid course in high school. It had looked good on college applications, which was all that mattered at the time. She began to wonder if she ought not to have spent the entire time ogling the instructor.

Deciding to start at the top and work her way down, she soaked and rung out a new washcloth and held it just above the top-most cut near the shoulder-blade. Recalling Loki’s reaction to his brother’s methods, Darcy found her heart fluttering faster in the realization that she didn’t want to hurt him. Again, she berated herself. This was the guy that caused an entire SHIELD station to collapse in on itself, invaded New York City and killed Agent iPod-Thief. But that didn’t seem to make much of a difference; her causing him pain wouldn’t undo any of that

“This’ll still sting.”

No answer meant she couldn’t stall any longer. She began to gently dab and wipe at the skin around the cut, tweezing out any sizable bits of glass or flooring or fabric she found. A little niggling voice in the back of her head told her several of these gashes ought to have stitches, but she really wasn’t prepared to McGyver her way through that one. Every now and then the muscles in Loki’s back would twitch and there’d be a sharp intake of breath but none of the damning words or agonizing gasps that had characterized Thor’s nursing shift.

Softly patting first section dry, and taping gauze over it, she wondered if he’d been given any medication at all. He wasn’t hooked up to an IV like Erik was, and there was nothing lying around to suggest there was anything for him. She was pretty sure this went against some part or other of the Geneva Convention. Not that Asgard had signed it, but the United States had. Any desire to point this out to someone was doused by the knowledge that Darcy Lewis had no voice here. In order to assuage her conscience, she’d have to do this herself.

_‘Does ibuprofen work on Norse deities?’_


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you no longer serve Jane Foster?”

Darcy jumped as the God of Thunder, having pulled up an extra chair, broke the tense silence that hung over the room as she continued patching up scrapes and gashes of varying severity. Thor was draped heavily over the poor plastic seat, his eyes following her movements with wearied concentration. He still clutched the flimsy cup, even though she was sure he’d finished the contents in but a few gulps.

“Huh? Oh, well, technically yeah I do. But, er, she’s not here… so I can’t.”

She was so not digging the term ‘serve’ but admitted to herself that that’s probably what it looked like. She had been a gopher, coffee-maker and life-organizer but the actual work had not trickled its way down to her at any stage really. Next he’d be calling her a ‘handmaiden’ or something equally archaic. She looked down to cut another strip of gauze and not her finger.

_‘Ugh, I’m not a handmaiden - I’m a nurse-maiden. Shit.’ She tried not to visibly sigh. ‘Well, better than the fat load of nothing you were before, Lewis. Get used to it.’_

“Yes, she was taken to a safe place. For that I am grateful but… why have you not gone with her?”

How, exactly, should she explain that the suits that came for Jane had barely even asked her name? Just bundled them into separate vans and her boss was off to Europe whereas she was shunted around from place to place while trying not to get in anyone’s way, ending up in New York. She wasn’t in any way important to SHIELD research, nor had she previously shared saliva with one of Earth’s mightiest heroes. She was just a body they had to accommodate. She kept her eyes firmly trained on the injuries before her, not really wanting to admit to any of that.

“I… uh… I’m not… as important as Jane is.”

Thor frowned at her answer.

“Besides,” Shrug, “if I’d gone with her… you’d have no-one to help out Mr Mischief here.”

Flickering her eyes up briefly and forcing a smile, she moved on to removing a particularly nasty-looking piece of glass from a wound on Loki’s side, hoping to avoid this line of questioning. She could tell Thor was unhappy with her response but she wanted to be recognized - even just a tiny bit - on merit, not pity.

 _‘And’_ , she mused, _‘the merit of salvaging what’s left of this guy it’s gonna to have to be.’_

Whatever retort had been waiting on the tip of Thor’s tongue was once more interrupted by his brother. However, this time it was not clipped words but an agonizing shout that reverberated down the hallway.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Darcy pleaded, her heart leaping to her throat and her hands flying away from his skin. By the look on his face, she was sure he’d throw up. He’d been berating Thor - his brother who loved him - for perceived carelessness. The little mortal upstart who dared presume to touch him? Probably ought to start backing away… and not all that slowly.

_‘So not the direction I was going for. Way to go Darce!’_

The only sound in the room was Loki’s heavy breathing, though to Darcy her own heartbeat echoed in her ears like thunder.

“The glass is still in there.” She wondered just how in the hell her voice could sound so smooth, soothing even, when she was quivering in her boots. Even injured and suffering, the man in front of her was still a God. And not a de-powered one like Thor had been. Even her long-since-confiscated taser would be ineffective.

Looking to Thor, she found him staring down at his brother with an exhausted, sick-of-your-shit look on his face. Though she did not doubt his word to protect her, he wasn’t going to notice her mildly terrified expression.

She moved hesitantly towards her second attempt at removing the shard but was halted by a muffled grumble from her ‘patient’.

“It’s not the wound…” Loki growled into the pillow, clearly having difficulty confessing his weakness to her, “… my ribcage.”

“Oh!” Darcy realized she must have been leaning her hand on his lower ribs while trying to tweak the glass free. The ones that were the epicentre of the bruise covering half his torso. Her touch, thus far only ghosting over him, had caused this powerful man to cry out in pain. She felt guilty. She was supposed to be helping. This was not helping. And yet the expected chewing out of Darcy Lewis by Loki of Asgard did not arrive. He simply continued to lie there, wheezing and refusing to look up.

Leaning over to risk a peek at his expression, she noted the perspiration running down the side of his face and along his neck. A hot sweat from a bad fever was a horrible thing to endure, it felt disgusting and hindered sleep. A glance further down his chest told her he was probably the same all over. No doubt he’d feel better after a bath. Which she’d have to, at least distantly, help with.

_‘Don’t go there, Lewis! You’ve finally got a job to do, remember? So don’t rear-end it by thinking about bath-time!’_

Turning away, she dashed back to the bathroom to soak a fresh washcloth in cold water and hopefully avoid either God noticing the rising blush on her cheeks.

She returned to the head of the bed, still behind Loki - she was definitely not ready for possible eye-contact yet - and delicately pressed the cool cloth to his neck. His eyelids fluttered shut and he sighed at the comfort. A small measure of pride fizzed within Darcy and she moved the cloth up onto his forehead.

When she felt the washcloth had given all the cooling relief it had to give, she made to bring her hand away to return to the glass shard still poking out of his side. Adrenaline fired up her arm as she felt Loki take hold of her wrist, keeping the cloth to his head. His grip was practically non-existent and she could more than likely just pull away. But at the same time, she couldn’t. It felt good to know she was actually making him feel better. A soft smile twitched on her face as she felt him relax just that little bit.

Darcy was prepared to let him hold her there for as long as he needed - she was actually kind of enjoying how soft his hands were - despite being super-aware of Thor’s gaze running over them. The elder brother was obviously running on empty and she could see his eyes getting more and more fatigued as it became clear Loki would let her treat his wounds unhindered.

A sharp hissing sound jolted her out of her dreamy stupor and she quickly pulled her hand away, leaving the cloth behind, to look over at Iron Man walking purposefully through the doorway. While she hadn’t really meant to pull back so suddenly, a part of her brain protested that it probably wasn’t a good thing to be seen being overly tender. Tony Stark was unlikely to be impressed with her making nice to the guy he just went through hell to defeat.

But it turned out that Tony Stark was unlikely to be impressed with her at all since, after first glancing at the almost out-of-it God of Mischief, he ignored her altogether and went straight to Thor.

“Hey, Point Break, you hungry?” He didn’t leave room for a reply. “We’re all beat so we’re gonna head out for food. I distinctly remember mentioning shwarma. You coming with?”

Holding out his hand for “Point Break”, Tony Stark looked equally drained and Darcy thought probably neither he nor Thor should be doing anything other than rest and recuperation. But she’d seen him on TV and made an intelligent guess that he could sass her under the table, even this obviously tired. The nice feeling she’d gotten from having alleviated Loki’s discomfort fizzled away to nothing.

_‘No voice, remember?’_

Thor looked from the proffered hand and back to Darcy.

“I should… stay here.” His face pleaded with Stark that, while he desired little more than to eat and rest up, he needed to stay and keep his word to Darcy. The guy wore his heart on his sleeve and she didn’t need to hear his stomach growl to know where he really wanted to be.

“It’s… it’s okay. I can manage. I-I mean, I’m almost done so…”

_‘What!? Why? Why are these word coming out of your mouth, Darcy?’_

Well, it wasn’t totally a lie. She had a couple more obvious injuries to see to. She wanted to find him some painkillers and make Loki less achingly uncomfortable but that was all, really. She supposed she wanted Thor to feel better too and, regardless of whatever shwarma was, eating something was probably a good way to do that. But, really, these were stupid words.

“So, it’s fine. Come on,” Stark cajoled, not wanting to take ‘no’ for an answer. “He’s not going anywhere. Leave the keys with Nurse Joy and we’re outta here.”

Thor’s exhaustion broke his resolve and he stiffly rose from his seat. He pulled two objects from his vambrace and held them out for Darcy. A key-card and a… thing. It looked a little like a screw with a hole in the bottom, and more like something you’d find in an obscure section of the hardware store.

“The white card will gain you entrance to my chambers. There is more than enough room to accommodate you when you are finished here.” His voice was groggy with the lack of energy.

_‘Score! Don’t have to spend the night on that cot bed! Poker face, poker face, poker face.’_

“And the metal one unlocks my brother’s restraints. I trust you will have no need of that…”

That last part had been growled towards Loki but the younger brother had not even re-opened his eyes, though it would be hard to believe he was asleep.

“… Do not let him coerce you into unchaining him without due cause. He is to remain as he is until I find a way home.”

Darcy took both keys, pocketing them and nodding. She did, however, question the practicality of that. How was he supposed to get to the bathroom? With this presumably being the company’s nurse station, and not an actual hospital, there was no call button on the bed. And it wasn’t a particularly long leash they had him on. Would it be complete and total suicide if she relaxed that rule a little? It’s not like he was in a fit state to wander around the building.

A stiff nod in return and Thor turned to the exit, taking heavy steps. There was a small part of her brain that was trying to scream that this was a terrible idea, that Loki was dangerous and she wasn’t safe on her own. But those thoughts were smothered by the tingling feeling of his hand on hers, light and benign. Stark gave her a wink and a parting address.

“Scream if you need us, hun.”

The loud whizz of the door shutting shook through her and contrasted greatly against the remaining stillness.

It didn’t take long before the echoes from Thor and Stark leaving faded to nothing. Even Loki’s breathing had softened a bit and she wondered if he hadn’t passed out. She wasn’t sure if she wanted that or not. Her footsteps seemed awkwardly loud as she tiptoed around the bed to check on him.

“Hey, you still with me?”

One eye creaked open and looked vaguely in her direction.

“Do you want some water?” A weak, stiff nod was followed by Darcy - against all odds - managing to pretend to be entirely calm as she filled a little plastic cup from the water cooler across the room. If he could barely hold a cloth to his own head, she was certain she’d have to help him drink.

_‘Hand. Mouth. Eye-contact. Eep.’_

Sliding her hand underneath the pillow to guide his head slightly upwards, she held the cup to his lips. She could feel him trying, _trying_ , to hold his own head up but it was clear he wasn’t going to manage by himself. Not wanting to give him too much at once, Darcy began to pull the cup back. But the second time Loki’s hand met Darcy’s it was desperate and, although shaking, clinging on to her so he could choke down every last drop.

“Stop! You’ll make yourself sick!”

But he paid her no heed and drank the entire cup, letting her hand go with a few spluttering coughs. She waited, stock still, as the sound of the plastic cup hitting the floor faded to Loki catching his breath.

“I still need to take out the glass.” She almost whispered as she returned to her post on the other side of him, she saw him grip the restraints in an effort not to scream again if she caught his injuries. “I’ll try not to go for your ribs but… I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

At first, no response. She swallowed.

“It must be done. Continue.” he rasped out and turned his face back into the pillow.

Guilt wracked inside her at the thought of having to do this to him. He needed an actual medical practitioner, not her guesswork. And yet SHIELD afforded him nothing.

Despite her best efforts, Darcy still had to place her hand on his lower ribs for leverage and she tweezed at this piece of glass. Being as gentle as possible, she still saw his arms shaking as he gripped to ride it out. Finally getting it free, the section of Stark’s window made a little chink against all the collection of other pieces in the pile next to her. It was followed by a slow but steady stream of blood from the wound and she double layered the gauze, still knowing this one would have to be first to get redressed. In her focus, she barely heard the faint call from the pillow.

“Darcy”… “Darcy”

The second, louder, caught her attention and she was frozen by how strange her name sounded in his voice. It felt overly familiar for someone who, essentially, amounted to a super-villain. But it’s what Thor had called her, so it only stood to reason that’s what Loki would use too.

“Yes? What’s up? You okay?”

All she got was in response was the sight of him shaking and, after peering round to look at him, made a beeline to bring the garbage can up to the head of the bed. She may not be a bona fide nurse but she’d been to enough house parties to know the ‘I’m trying really hard not to throw up’ face.

The sight of him swallowing made her struggle not to gag. She quickly flung aside Thor’s stipulation that she not unchain him and fished the small metal key-bolt-thing out of her pocket, hoping that it was simple enough to use. It was, after all, little secret that Darcy Lewis was no science major.

She aimed for the cuff on his top arm and a little circular slot about the same circumference as the bolt and it clicked in. There was a hushed hiss as she turned it and the tell-tale sensation of a latch unlocking. Loki didn’t bother waiting for her to take the now loose cuff off his wrist but pulled his arm out and leaned over the bed.

Moving faster than she ever thought she could, Darcy picked up the can and held it up as the would-be ruler of Midgard wretched into it. She couldn’t help the grimace as she saw it was mostly the water he’d gulped down and blood. Though he was doubtlessly better off getting rid of it, she still felt a wave of compassion as the whole process ran through his entire body.

_‘It hurt him when I touched his ribs. This must be torture.’_

Probably against better sense, she ran her fingers through his hair in order to bring it back from his face. It obviously needed a wash and a comb but she ignored that in favour of rubbing her thumb over the base of his skull. Even if it did nothing for him, it was making her feel better.

A groan and some spitting cued her he was most likely done, hopefully, and she hurried to get him more water. He was leaning the weight of his top half on the now free arm, looking like he would collapse in a pile of jelly any minute now. With what seemed like all her fast movements done for the night, Darcy stood and watched as he rolled gingerly onto his back, wincing a little but sinking down into the mattress.

 _‘Get moving, woman._ ’ Her own brain spurred her into gear and she re-soaked her cold washcloth. She applied it to his cheek and relished the warm fuzziness in her chest that resurfaced when he turned his head further into her hand so that his nose brushed her skin. What felt like a bolt of lightening rocketed down her spine as his eyes opened and, finally, met her own. Sunken and bloodshot, they were the most beautiful shade of green; though she could have sworn before that they were blue like Thor’s. And in them she saw all the pain and sickness she expected but, deeper within them, she also found melancholy, mistrust, shame and… fear. How could he be afraid of her? What danger could she possibly be? She faintly wondered, if she could see all that, what Loki could see in her eyes.

“I know why you’re here.” 

The refined speech Thor spoke with was doubly noticeable in his brother and she began to consider if Thor wasn’t a smidge overrated. Loki seemed to possess much more fluidity, was quicker of mind. She made a mental note that it was a bad idea to look up clips of him from his arrival in that swanky place in Germany, but she was going to do it anyway.

“What?”

He lifted his chin up, in an attempt to look condescending even from the bed, and sneered at her.

“I know why you’re here, Darcy Lewis. You think pitying me shall win you Thor’s favour. And I will not have it.”

 _‘That’s what you’re afraid of? That I’ll use you to get closer to Thor._ ’ The fear she’d seen gave her the idea she’d be far from the first person to do that. But did she pity him? She supposed she did. But he didn’t want her pity just like she hadn’t wanted Thor’s. She gave a shrug and started patting the cool cloth down his neck and along his collarbone.

“Well, yeah, that was Plan A.” _‘Hastily-thrown together Plan A, I might add.’_ “But if that was all, I could have just gone straight for his room after he left. I just held your hair back while you puked, you gotta give me some credit.”

He didn’t reply, but searched her eyes a little longer before moving to stare at the ceiling. End of conversation.

She put the cloth back on his forehead and moved away to start a hasty clean up. With the gag-worthy task of rinsing out the trash can over with, she refilled it with the used cups, blood-saturated cloths and the pile of glass before sourcing some painkillers - ones with the promise of making him drowsy - and fresh water.

Loki gave the pills a disdainful look before wordlessly swallowing them. Darcy left the rest of the packet on his bedside table - they were just run-of-the-mill, over-the-counter stuff; not likely to kill him if he overdosed - and decided it was time to go.

“I’ll come back in the morning. Do you need anything else?”

He granted her a ‘no’ and made a face that said he really didn’t believe she’d return. She swiped her card to get out again and tried not to look back at him.

_‘I’ll show him. Now… where the hell is Thor’s room?’_

She made her way down a few corridors before hitting the elevator, wondering if she’d ever get the image of those green eyes out of her head.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki burned inside.

The girl had dimmed the lights on her way out but he doubted he could sleep. Now, with one arm free, lying on his back he could feel every last inch of tape and bandage she’d put there. It was vastly improved from having all the glass and dirt and sweat but all his nerves tingled where her delicate fingertips had flitted across his skin. It had been so long since the touches he’d felt had been anything other than violent or brutish. And it was but a lowly Midgard woman that gave him the first friendly contact in what felt like eons. He loathed to admit that the sensation was delightful. Her hands had been cool against his fever. It was all he could manage not to whimper when she’d stroked his hair. He hadn’t wanted her to stop but nor could he bring himself to ask it of her.

He could kick himself for such wistful nonsense. This girl - _‘Darcy.’_ \- was nothing but a useless creature that followed Thor like a lost dog. She’d tried to skirt around it but Loki saw the truth. She had no purpose here and needed Thor to give her one. And he wanted no part of it. He had little want for second-hand sympathy. And was certainly not going to aid her in clambering into Thor’s affections… Or his britches, whichever she was after. Even if she had managed to take the immediate sting out of his injuries. He tried to convince himself that Darcy was every drop the same as all the other miserable wretches in this realm.

At first, he’d been content for her to simply rescue him from Thor’s fumbling treatment. Clearly, even the basic knowledge of Migardian remedies had not been passed along. It had resulted in little more than bickering and shouting, with them quickly getting more and more frustrated with one another. Darcy had been far gentler, more in-tuned to what he required. The fear she’d entered the room with had been gradually suppressed as she worked and she’d seemed genuinely unhappy in the instance she’d caused him more pain.

He’d had no choice but to let her see him at his weakest. Yet she had not mocked him, nor chastised him - out loud at least - for the things he’d done. She was obviously one of the mortals Thor had met during his banishment. She had likely healed him too, since she seemed to have a greater familiarity with such endeavours. Thor had been an arrogant boor back then and still she’d befriended him. Darcy was non-judgmental, a trait scarce even on Asgard, and Loki tried desperately to smother the flickering hope that, perhaps, she could direct that quality at him. It would sooth a wound far deeper than lacerations, or cracked ribs.

_‘Such foolishness. Monsters are undeserved. The chit will not return once she has found Thor’s bedside.’_

But that flicker would not die, no matter how he tried to malign her, and he knew he’d feel its sting later. She had stared into his eyes like she’d never seen another person before; searching, curious and without pre-conception. Yes, piteous but also understanding. As if she knew he had no allies left and could not stand to see another living being so troubled without help.

He really didn’t want her pity. He knew he’d much rather earn her soft ministrations and not be given them out of charity. _‘Like you tried to earn favour from Fath- Odin?’_

Loki shut his eyes, even to just imitate slumber, and continued to squash the hope that she might come to his aid once more. But still it grew and gently smoldered, despite his constant assertions that what he’d seen in her expression was a lie; she was toying with him, or it was his own delirious imagining.

That night, in fitful sleep, Loki dreamt of Jotunnheim: the battle, his bargain with Laufey and that hideous, unspeakable moment when his skin had turned such an awful shade of blue. All the while he kept longing for delicate hands in the back of his hair, even as the two most damning words he’d ever known replayed a thousand times.

_‘No, Loki.’_

\--

Darcy had wondered around the top few floors in Stark Tower for about half an hour before frantically trying Thor’s card in every door. Some worked. Some didn’t. But none lead to a bedroom of any sort, never mind one that might belong to the God of Thunder. Occasionally she got a juddering, broken message from JARVIS telling her she ‘did not have access to this area.’ She’d heard of JARVIS and - despite scaring the shit out of her the first time he spoke - she was certain he was not meant to sound so stilted and mechanical. Given the state of the rest of Manhattan, she shouldn’t be surprised if even he was on the fritz.

Even so, nothing prepared her for the view when the elevator doors shuddered open to reveal what had once been Tony Stark’s penthouse. The part of her that told her this was not only the wrong place, but also nowhere she should be snooping was blissfully mute as Darcy stepped in. Her jaw hung open as she tread through the jarringly familiar broken glass and shattered flooring, towards the large balcony. Everything from the practically bombed-out room to the apocalyptic panorama of New York City below her made her mind reel.

This was Loki. This was the guy she’d patched up and comforted. She couldn’t match the two. The man in the infirmary was broken; hurting physically and mentally. She figured he’d been the latter long before setting foot on Earth. She couldn’t imagine what could make him so desperate in order to cause such catastrophe.

 _‘He’s destroyed everything.’_ Those words catapulted her back a year to when that giant suit of armour - ‘The Destroyer’ Thor had called it - had incinerated half of Puente Antiguo. The smashed windows, bulldozed buildings and ruined lives were all the same. Her mind dragged up images of Thor’s smiling face as he regaled them with tales, which they hadn’t initially believed, of his adventures, his friends and his young brother. Thor had cast his brother in quite a different light to that of one capable of utter chaos and desperate rage. The Loki in his stories had been… bookish, introverted and much more passive than Thor or his companions. Like the one she’d glimpsed, buried deep in green eyes. She ached inside knowing that person had, along the way, been so damaged as to drag his anger across the universe.

Something had happened when Thor returned from his banishment to get Loki cast out in his place, and there appeared to be no band of friends to come look for him. She knew that feeling; to know there would be no-one coming to help you find your way. Okay, she hadn’t devastated any major cities in response but, if she’d had superpowers, who’s to say she wouldn’t have?

_‘He’s so lost.’_

Whatever had happened, he seemed to be ripping himself to pieces in his own head to cope. Darcy wanted to burst into tears; wanted to run back to his bedside, sobbing - screaming - apologies. She didn’t care about any of the damage he’d done - humans killed and destroyed like second nature - she’d look past it. Anything to lessen the heartache his eyes had showed her, devoid of trust.

 _‘I’ll forgive you.’_ Her breathing was quick and she was sure the lump in her throat would suffocate her as she tried not to do any of those things. But she knew it was true. Manhattan would be rebuilt, probably with far greater care and sentimentality than the small town in New Mexico had been. People would live their lives again and she would forgive Loki. Thor would be furious with her. As would SHIELD.

And it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

SHIELD had quite thoroughly demonstrated that she was worthless to them. Though she’d had every intention in the first place, there was now no way she could not return to Loki in the morning.

The night air infiltrating the penthouse chilled her and Darcy turned to keep searching for the couch in Thor’s room. Despite the blur that was her mind after its little epiphany, her eyes still spotted a glittering piece of gold, poking out from under a tipped up section of sofa. Kneeling to free it from the leather-bound debris, her eyes soaked up something she couldn’t fail to recognize. Though, frankly, the news reporters’ cameras and witnesses’ phone footage did it no justice.

 _‘Talk about a Viking helmet. Horns and everything.’_ Sat staring at Loki’s discarded helmet made her feel like the first little bird that flutters onto a battlefield after the cease-fire. Everything was frozen in ravaged disarray. Yet the helmet didn’t have a scratch on it. It was lighter than she’d thought and she had to shake her head to dismiss the thought of trying it on.

 _‘He’ll want this back, I bet. I’ll bring him breakfast and give it back.’_ A quick rummage through the apartment yielded a duffel bag large enough for her to stash the helmet in without it looking too suspicious. Nobody’d think little Darcy Lewis would be carrying something like this around anyway.

The voice in the back of her head still trying to remind her that she shouldn’t be in here remained unheard as she started tidying up a little, a kind of nervous habit. All the bits of sofa in one place; all the glass swept into the trash. She couldn’t do much about the Loki-sized crater in the middle of the room but she could pick up the loose bits and pieces and sweep up the dust. She whiled away longer than she really should have, cleaning and making a mental list of all the things she’d like to get for the God of Mischief in the morning. She briefly considered _acquiring_ some of Stark’s clothes to give him - a little revenge for calling her ‘Nurse Joy’ earlier on - but realized it was pointless since Loki was so much taller. And she knew Loki wouldn’t take to the idea of borrowing his opponent’s clothes. She’d have more luck getting him into her prom dress. 

_‘I’ll stop by a Goodwill someplace. He won’t know where it came from. I’ll have to go to a drug store. And get food somewhere. Should I get pancakes? Or something else? Thor eats anything, so that’s no help. I don’t wanna give him anything too rich if he’s still nauseous.’_

When Darcy finally placed the last trash bag by the elevator, ready for whoever came by next, it was approaching midnight. She bit her lip in the realization that Thor would likely have returned from shwarma and noticed the lack of Darcy in his ‘chambers’. If he’d gotten in at all, having given her his key-card. She couldn’t really claim to have been lost the whole time, although she still hadn’t actually found his room yet. 

Slinging the bag with her precious cargo over her shoulder, she felt stiff and fatigued and ready for bed. She wondered if Loki had actually gone to sleep when she’d left, but she’d find out in the morning. As the elevator doors closed on her way back down a couple of floors, she knew the ache in her bones and muscles was a satisfying one: she’d comforted someone in pain and tidied Stark’s front room. She’d missed the sensation of actually working.

_‘Let’s see if you think that in the morning, Lewis.’_

Thor’s room turned out to be on the second floor she looked in after leaving the penthouse. She’d found a room with a sticky-note on it that read ‘Barton’. She faintly remembered an agent by that name being around the Bifrost site and followed that corridor. A few more doors without sticky notes and one with a ‘Rogers’ note, then she came to the ‘Thor’ door.

The God of Thunder wasn’t slumped in a pile outside nor had the door itself been obliterated so… he either wasn’t back, or someone else let him in.

 _‘I’ll find out soon enough.’_ She was grateful this door opened quieter than the one to the infirmary as she was greeted by the sound of Thor snoring away.

Inside, it looked fancy - even in the dark. She saw a sofa with extra pillows and a blanket laid aside and felt a little torn between the God she’d half-mended and the one loaning her a place to sleep. But she was too tired to think about stuff that convoluted and flopped down on the sofa. She knew she ought to set an alarm on her phone for the morning but drifted off before she could even finished the thought.

\--

Loki had known no good would come of this; he’d failed to suppress the hope that Darcy would be back and found it weighed in his chest like a great lump of ice. He berated himself for the stupidity of thinking it would not be Thor stomping in with breakfast. He’d even been so foolish as to look in his wake to see if the girl was following. But no. And worse still was the fact that the man he used to call brother had seen him looking longingly at the empty door way.

 _‘Even a bullish oaf like Thor can guess your desperation. He’ll only use it against you. He or one of the others.’_

Loki had refused breakfast, scrambled eggs on toast, the smell of which was still making his stomach churn as they sat cooling on the bedside table. He wasn’t yet hungry enough to risk it, nor did he want Thor to mistake it for compliance anyway.

He simply stared at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes and tried to pretend it made no difference that the girl had not come. Even one of the people who’d accepted Thor at his worst could not return to Loki at his weakest. If he pretended enough that it didn’t matter, it would become true.


	4. Chapter 4

Darcy could feel the heat in her cheeks from rushing. She’d slept in and was only just getting back from her trip to get stuff for Loki. And she still had to go back and collect the bag with the helmet stashed under the sofa, where her godly roommate hopefully assumed it was her belongings.

_‘It’s okay. 11.17 am. I’m not **that** late… yet’_

The security guards had looked at her suspiciously as she’d swiped herself in with Thor’s key-card but, ultimately, paid no heed at seeing her carrying a bunch of transparent shopping bags and some take-out food. They had more important jobs than hassling somebody’s assistant. The streets outside had been a wasteland, people were about and a few businesses had been open but no-one lingered on the sidewalk and the bustling crowds were missing. Meaning she’d had to search a bit longer than anticipated for all the things she’d wanted. It felt odd, going shopping for the God of Mischief when all the city was waking up from fresh turmoil. She had a job to do, while so many others were still huddled in confusion.

She strode purposefully in the smug kind of pride in feeling like she had her shit together. For once.

Snagging the duffel bag from its hiding spot and swinging back out the door, Darcy’s proverbial shit quickly fell apart again as she was no longer alone in the corridor. A guy not much older than herself was coming out of the door which had been marked ‘Rogers’. He was dressed like her grandfather on a Sunday, with beige slacks and a checked shirt, but his frame and his face were recognizable from television.

 _‘This guy is Captain Fucking America. I wasn’t just in Thor’s room, I’m in the Avengers’ goddamn hallway.’_ Her involvement in the world of superheroes and assassins was getting ever deeper and it made her starstruck. And far less capable of carrying all the bags she’d acquired, with a couple of them - fortunately not the one with lunch - tumbling to the floor, their contents spilling out with a series of thumps. It drew the Captain’s attention, something Darcy did not want while carrying Loki’s helmet hidden in Stark’s gym bag.

“Do you need some help, Miss?”

 _‘Oh God, he’s gonna be a boy scout. I need to get out of here.’_ She scrambled to pick up what she’d dropped but it wasn’t happening; she still had to hold up what was left. She could hear Rogers’ footsteps coming towards her.

“Here, let me give you a hand.” Darcy gave him an airy smile and a ‘thank you’, trying to hide her rising panic, as he gathered up items into one of the bags. The longer she stayed around him, the more chance she’d get caught with that golden monstrosity in her possession. To her frustration he held on to the bag, offering to carry it for her.

“You going in or coming out?” Rogers’ face belied the connotations of her standing in front of Thor’s room. It looked suspect to begin with - a young woman entering or exiting a man’s quarters, with what looked like overnight stuff.

“Uh… out. I’m heading for the elevator.” She knew there was no right answer, though she belatedly thought she’d have been better off going back inside and waiting for him to leave.

_‘Too late now. Thanks brain.’_

If there was something more awkward than this, Darcy hadn’t seen it yet. Standing silently in the elevator with Captain America, who probably had her down as some kind of groupie, was not something she wanted to do. She just wanted to run away; get back to Loki’s room where she could do her self-imposed job. She could have slapped herself as, after telling him which floor she needed, he eyed her worriedly.

_‘I am not cut out for this secret agent stuff.’_

The doors opening cued her to practically swipe her bag from Rogers’ hand and, throwing out another quick thanks, she whizzed down the corridor. She couldn’t hear the elevator leaving again and could feel him watching her, looking to see which door she’d go in.

Thanking whatever other deities were involved, Loki’s room was around a corner. The door couldn’t open and close fast enough and she leaned back against it to try and diffuse the panic.

A cough drew her attention and she couldn’t help the blush on her face as Loki looked at her from the bed, eyebrow raised.

“Oh… h-hey there. How are you feeling? Sleep okay? Sorry I’m kinda late. Although it’s still technically morning.” Her speech came out in one long breath and Loki only hummed in response. She brought her bags over to the bedside before steeling herself and checking his fever. She had no thermometer but it had been very noticeable to begin with. He still felt hot and clammy to the touch and she thought it unlikely he felt any better. Those intense eyes searched her features as she pulled her hand back. The mistrust was still there but there also seemed to be a shimmer of relief, gratefulness even, as she touched him. Her flustered anxiety ebbed away and the fear that had once wracked her never came; she began to feel like this was the only safe place in the world. The one place no-one would belittle or shout at her. No Jane needing X, Y and Z by yesterday. No Erik being exasperated at her inability to grasp complex scientific theories. Only Loki, who had few demands of her other than water. 

She was on the verge of jumping into that morning’s purchases when she noticed the forsaken breakfast on the bedside table. It was a repulsive impression of scrambled eggs, swimming in grease and looking as if it might bounce off the floor. Canteen food at its worst, it made her feel queasy just to look at it.

“Please tell me you didn’t eat that.” She sighed emphatically when he indicated that he hadn’t touched it.

“Oh thank God. I mean, I know you couldn’t help it last night but I don’t particularly want to watch you throw up again. And this…. stuff would do the trick. Who brought you that?” Both she and Loki shared the same disgusted expression as Darcy oozed the concoction into the trash.

“Dearest Thor is trying to poison me, it would seem.”

She resisted the urge to slap her hand over her face as she realized that scrambled eggs would be one of the only things Thor knew as breakfast on Midgard. That and pancakes. So she really ought not to be surprised. But still, they were appalling. Even Thor’s wobbly first attempt back in the desert had been far superior. Ignoring Loki’s sarcasm, she turned and found the paper bag with lunch in it.

“Well, I don’t know if you’re up to eating or not but I brought you actual food. I got… soup, bread, some salad…” she pulled out all the items and stacked them in place of breakfast, “you don’t have to finish all of it, but I think you should eat something.”

While he looked divided between tucking straight in and refusing for the sake of being obstinate, she waltzed up to where his other arm was still cuffed to the bed frame and freed it. The way he absently rubbed his wrist brought that bubbling warmth back to her and she knew this was fast becoming something almost addictive. She held out her arms so he could pull himself up. Loki eyed her suspiciously for a fleeting moment before taking the offer of leverage to sit up. His arms felt heavy and strong but it still obviously pained him to move normally. She supposed, as he looked away from her eyes, that he wasn’t used to needing help in this way. Darcy could have held on all day but turned quickly to the other bags. Her arms felt cold having broken contact.

“I brought you other stuff too. I got… bath stuff for you to wash up, some more meds… I got you fresh clothes. They’re nothing fancy, just comfy stuff to sleep in. I even got you some books to read…”

Looking up, she saw that, although he’d picked up the soup and was picking at it experimentally, Loki wasn’t actually eating anything. He was just scowling at it with uncertainty. She had to stop herself from jumping when that stare was pointed at her.

“I thought I made myself clear: I do **not** want your pity.”

Her mind told her she should be scared but she wasn’t. She could see his guardedness masquerading as anger and decided to push back just a little.

“That’s good. Because all I got left here is this thing.” She unzipped the duffel bag and held his helmet up for him to see. It was, by far and away, the cleanest thing in the room and the bright lights made it gleam all the more. She stifled a smug smile at the way his eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Where did you get that?”

“Found it in Stark’s penthouse. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t belong to him, so I thought I’d bring it to its rightful owner.”

Loki had no retort but he looked at her with unfettered confusion as she sat the helmet gently on a chair. He seemed an odd mixture of reluctant trust and genuine surprise that she’d done this for him. Like he was realizing that Darcy wasn’t helping him to get close to Thor, nor because anyone had asked her, but because she _wanted_ to. When it appeared the relief in his eyes would spill out into vocal gratitude, he went back to eating soup. But she saw it. She didn’t need to hear it and knew that pushing him for thanks would only make him back-peddle spectacularly. She looked out and started on her own meal while he ate every last scrap available to him.

Once they’d finished and the packaging all thrown away, she broached the subject she’d actually been looking forward to: a bath. She’d astonished herself by not thinking of it in a perverted way. She was beginning to need a wash too but she hadn’t been involved in heavy combat, so she figured Loki needed it more. He looked a mess and she knew he’d feel better clean.

_‘Okay, so it’s the middle of the day. It’s not like either of us have to be anywhere.’_

“We need to change your bandages. I’m guessing Thor didn’t… Did you want a bath at the same time? I could wash your hair…”

Instantly the suspicion was back in his features but it was overruled by his recognition that, yes, he did need to bathe and he did want her to wash his hair. The bruise on his ribs was darker than it had been yesterday and it didn’t take a genius to work out he’d probably have trouble reaching up to do it himself.

He nodded and she sped off to run the water and, hopefully, avoid showing him just how glad she was to look after him.

_‘That’s crazy talk, Darcy.’_

She was developing the worrisome habit of ignoring every sensible command her brain gave her when it came to Loki. She’d just ran away from a national hero for fear of not being allowed to come back here. But the satisfaction of usefulness was inescapable and she knew she wouldn’t - couldn’t - trade it for anything right now.

Thought it might have been a little childish, Darcy added bubbles to the bath in an attempt to give him some semblance of decency; there was a clinical severity that came with sitting in a bath of clear water. Something a lot of people would be happy to subject him to, but not her.

Once the water was high enough, she looked back to find Loki on the bed exactly as she’d left him. Upon seeing her confusion, he jerked his leg to rattle the other cuffs that still held his ankles to the frame. They’d been hidden under the blanket but she still felt a little silly for not having thought they’d be there.

_‘Of course, he’d be tied down by more than just his hands. He’s a dangerous person.’_

Such thoughts whizzed past unheeded as she duly unchained him. In a show of stubbornness Loki swung his legs over the edge of the bed quickly, moving to stand. She hadn’t thought him able to move so steadily just yet. She was right. As soon as he was upright, his knees buckled under him and he sat back down with a furiously embarrassed expression. She strode over to his side, the one not enveloped by contusions, and placed herself under his arm so he could lean on her.

He was as tall as Thor and, despite being slighter, he seemed to weigh the same. His brother had been limp and unconscious and it had taken both Darcy and Erik serious effort to gracelessly trawl him into the back of their van. But Loki was taut, tense and trying miserably to hold himself up through what looked like agony. The obscene height difference made it awkward, but together they staggered their way over to the bathroom door with Darcy reassuring him that she wouldn’t let him fall.

“It’s okay, Loki… I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

\--

“Now, Pep. Just… I don’t want you to freak out or anything. I know, last night, I said things got a little messy in there and I meant it.”

“Tony, as long as you’re all alright. We can fix a ruined apartment.”

“Yeah…” Tony winced and scratched his head as they waited, in what seemed like the longest elevator ride in history, to start their clean up job on the penthouse. Tony was well aware the place was way more than ‘a little messy’. He’d said that when Pepper had arrived the previous evening, worried to the point of tears. And now he had to show her into a battlefield. Hopefully, if she did freak out he could hide behind one of the others. Thor and Steve were lending a hand, though the latter had given their Norse companion a strange look at first.

The doors opened and Tony’s jaw hit the floor. There was no gasp from Ms Potts, nor a refrain of ‘oh my god’ or ‘what the hell?’ 

“Uh… are we… on the right… floor?” Of course he was on the right floor but Tony had to ask anyway because he was not faced with his torn up front room. What greeted them still had the marks of damage - broken windows, wrecked furniture, Loki-crater - but there was nothing littering the floor, the debris had all been swept away. Even a bunch of trash bags lined the wall nearest the exit.

_‘Who the hell got in here? We were all at shwarma, then hit the hay. I didn’t authorize anybody else. And I really don’t see Fury with a feather duster. Or do I? No! Never mind.’_

“Geez, who’d you rope into doing this for you Stark?” Rogers appeared disappointed in the thought that Tony had made someone else do a lot of work.

“Uh… I… No, it’s.. What? JARVIS? Who the hell got in here?!”

“The security cameras are currently offline, sir.”

“Tony? You alright?”

He spun around to see Pepper recognizing his mildly panicked face. This place had been a war-zone when they’d left it. Through the night, someone had broken in, stolen nothing and cleaned half the debris up. He’d have to look through the swipe-card logs to see who accessed the elevator this far up last night. But why anyone would do this, he couldn’t fathom. The Captain remained unperturbed.

“So what? We’ve got a cleaning fairy now?”

There was a disbelieving chuckle from Thor from where he’d been inspecting the categorized piles of furniture.

“Do such creatures exist here? Mother told us oftentimes that we did not want fairies to do this work. That they would take our belongings as recompense. I thought it make-believe to have us keep our things in order.”

Pepper choked on a giggle. “It is make-believe, Thor. He was being sarcastic.” The God looked slightly disheartened. “Look, I don’t think anything’s been taken. I’m sure we can figure out who it was.”

With that, Tony began his agitated tapping at JARVIS’ access point, looking through logs and history. While Steve and Thor began shifting the larger pieces of flotsam, Pepper softly laughed at Thor’s continuing discourse on the habits of fairies.

“The more they have to put right, the more precious the object they take…”


	5. Chapter 5

_‘This ought to be humiliating,’_ Loki incessantly reminded himself. After taking what seemed an impossibly long time to stumble the three or four yards from the bed to the bathroom, he was now sat up to his waist in a tub of wonderfully warm water and foam. He’d required far more help getting there than he’d care to admit though Darcy had been gracious throughout, keeping her eyes in decent places even as she’d stripped the last of his clothing. She was currently removing all the dressings taped across his back, having handed him a washcloth with instructions to ‘take care of the front’ himself. He suspected by the increased whirring of the cameras, minute ones hidden from view, that it was not strictly appropriate for a young woman such as her to be doing this. But she didn’t seem to mind. And knowing his only alternative would be Thor brought on a shudder.

His ribs hurt. His back hurt and not simply due to the cuts. Though the bath water was relaxing, his bones felt like lead and his muscles like jelly. He dreaded the inevitable rigmarole of getting back out. But, as Darcy - with hair pinned back and sleeves rolled up - finished gathering everything to hand, he conceded that she made the undignified process marginally less unpleasant.

She was a fairly small mortal but had surprised him with the strength she’d used to prop him up. He hadn’t wanted to put so much of his weight upon her, for fear of both of them collapsing to the floor. But the effort had brought on dizziness and she’d held him up with little difficulty.

_‘Compared to Thor, she no doubt thinks me a light-weight.’_

Loki was unhappily familiar with the heavy feeling in his chest at such a comparison. And yet he couldn’t ignore what she’d said to coax him into persevering. Through all the dizziness and pain he had heard the words he hadn’t known would be so relieving.

 _‘You’re okay.’_ He thought himself foolish for needing such a simple thing. But it still felt like water in the desert; so rare to him now.

“Can you lean your head back? I’ll do your hair.” Her voice briefly pulled him from his thoughts and he craned his neck backwards, trying to throttle the idea that he was looking forward to her fingers in his hair once more. He could see her face from this angle and took the opportunity to observe her as she worked. Dark hair, fair skin. Soft, red lips and crystalline blue irises. A shade of blue he ought to despise forever, but it looked so much milder on Darcy.

She smiled contentedly as she wetted his hair, with no disdain in her eyes. No plotting, no scheming. He did not understand her. He had noticed as she was unpacking the items she’d brought that they were not resources he was using up. His eyes had picked out the little slip of paper with payment specifics: she’d gone out and spent her money to make him more comfortable. His first reaction was to be incensed, he still did not want her charity, but she’d shocked him entirely by producing his helmet. He had not known where it had landed and he’d been fully prepared to use his magic - once he recovered sufficiently - to conjure it forth, aware that no-one else was going to seek it out for him. This girl did not know what it meant, how important all of his armour was to him. As it would be to any other warrior on Asgard.

Darcy was kind. He was far from accustomed to receiving kindness without ulterior motive and there remained a fear that this was merely a ploy. All the same he could not bring himself to voice his suspicions; not only were they proving to be more and more unfounded but there was equal chance she would take offense and retract her benevolence anyway.

All of that immediately flew from his mind as Darcy’s hands ran over his scalp. The liquid from one of the bottles she’d bought created a clean-smelling lather and this time Loki could not contain a groan. His eyes fluttered shut but not before he saw her lips spread into a beaming smile.

He felt a little dismayed at having given himself away so obviously but did not dwell on the ever shrinking worry that she would use any of this to her advantage. Her hands in his hair sent wondrous shivers down his neck.

He imagined she was like few in this realm. Surrounded by those whose lives composed little other than deception and duty, she was neither an agent of SHIELD nor an ‘Avenger’. She did not belong here. She was just a piece of collateral damage, caught in the wake. One with a lamentable habit of picking up strays.

“You would do this for every Asgardian you find, I shouldn’t wonder.” The words were out of his mouth before he could hold them in check. He found that he dreaded her response but she surprised him by smiling broadly once again.

“You mean Thor? Actually, we, uh, hit him with a car. And then I electrocuted him.”

 _‘What?’_

He could not have even imagined such an answer. And not with all the strength he’d ever possessed could he halt the spluttering laughter that burst out of him. It was half peppered with coughs and he had to lift his head back up to avoid choking, but still he chortled. And the delight it caused him was all the better to hear Darcy giggling along with him.

“Yeah… he went down like a sack of potatoes. It was pretty awesome.” 

Eventually the laughter died down to just coughing. The bruise on his ribs throbbed angrily but he didn’t care. The irony of it all was heavenly. Sighing and trying to catch his breath, he could scarcely believe his luck. He had discovered the only person in all the Nine Realms prepared to show kindness to him where Thor received the wrong end of his own revered element. Loki wanted to gather her up and hide her as far away from SHIELD, and their insidious meddling, as was possible.

At first he’d had little clue as to what merited her favour. But, as he turned to look at her still grinning face, he thought perhaps she was not cut from the same cloth as Thor or any of the others. She did not fit in here, just as he didn’t in his own realm. As far as he’d been aware, he didn’t belong anywhere. And he had given up looking. But Darcy had not, it seemed. He held her gaze, searching through eyes filled with a mix of mirth and consideration, and the voice of crushing self-doubt became ever so slightly quieter.

She blushed a little and looked away.

“What? You didn’t think I could? … Come on, let me get the shampoo out of your hair.”

Again he put his head back, allowing his eyes to shut and trying to fight the sleep he’d struggled with last night.

\--

Darcy had not felt so fulfilled in a very long time. Bath-time was now officially a job well done and she was busy changing the bed sheets, listening to Loki brushing his teeth in the bathroom. His mood had improved considerably but he’d still needed to lean quite a lot of his weight on her while getting out of the bath. And during the decidedly awkward undertaking of getting him dried off and into the pyjama pants she’d brought. She still needed to redress his wounds but would bring him back to bed for that.

She wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He’d burst out laughing at her story of tasing Thor and looked at her very strangely. He was sussing her out yet again, but the mistrust was gone. Or no longer directed at her at least. It was a cosy, full feeling - for once these days, somebody was glad to have her around.

The sound of clattering brought her attention back to the bathroom where she found the God of Mischief sitting on the edge of the bath with his head resting on the sink. The steam from the bath had made his head spin and he’d let the toothbrush fall out of his hand.

_‘Better get him back to bed before he collapses.’_

The walk back over was even more disjointed than the first, Loki seemed like he’d drift off to sleep hanging from her shoulder. And where at first he would have taken a second or two to scrutinize her for motive and intent, now he just accepted her help. She even entertained the notion that he liked her. She sat behind him on the bed, even though sleep would do him the world of good, she still wanted to put more gauze on. The wounds themselves seemed improved from yesterday, though a few of the larger ones still bled, and it made her think of the moment Thor’s injuries had vanished after regaining Mjolnir. It seemed the most hindering affliction was the fever that wouldn’t break. The one that Erik had too.

_‘Was… was Loki being mind-controlled as well?’_

With the worst of the cuts redressed, Darcy decided to comb his hair too. That sort of thing seemed to relax him - he’d gone practically comatose after their giggle-fest - and she smiled when he leaned back on one arm, closer to her. She’d never met anyone so conflicting. Yes, she knew he was responsible - directly and indirectly - for a lot of deaths. But the scale was so big that she struggled to see it. And he made her feel so capable, so worthwhile. No-one had ever given her that. It was as if he were two different people.

She could have done this for hours and not noticed but his failure at suppressing a yawn told her it was time to go. She needed to shower too and had promised herself she’d check on Erik again. Those things kind of felt like chores now but Loki wanted to sleep… so back to the original plan it was.

She helped him lay back and pulled the blanket up over him. He shook his head to avoid the sinking drowsiness.

“It’s okay. Just catch some sleep. I’ll come back with dinner later.” He looked disappointed that she was leaving, but he kept quiet. She went back to the bathroom to tidy up, wincing slightly at how dirty the water had gotten. He’d used what energy he had to shave and brush his teeth, so the clean up was all hers. When she was done he was completely out of it. She grabbed the bags with her own new things and left the hoodie she’d bought him on the bed. If his fever broke in his sleep, she didn’t want him to lie there cold until she came back. Loki was pretty this way, relaxed in slumber. Despite being still marred by cuts and bruises, he looked refined. The heat in her face rose as she told herself not to stare, that there were other things to be done.

Eventually, reluctantly, she headed back upstairs to wash up and change clothes. She was in a daze, carrying the effects of her safe place around with her, as she looked in on Dr Selvig, whose status was improved but he still wasn’t awake. She knew she ought to feel the same sympathy for Erik as she did for Loki but it wasn’t happening. Though her visit wasn’t a long one, as she looked at him all she could see was the way he used to roll his eyes at her when she didn’t understand something. There was something about that which ought to have worried her; she knew for certain she probably annoyed Erik but he wasn’t a bad person, he didn’t actually hate her. Yet nothing. None of the waves of warmth she got from Loki. She knew Selvig, once he was up and about, wouldn’t look at her with the ‘don’t go’ eyes.

At a bit of a loss as to how to occupy herself, she was searching out a coffee machine when the God of Thunder found her in the corridor. He had a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and looked just as frustrated and ticked off as when she’d first found him.

“There you are, Darcy. You are well?” A nod. “Good… you are needed in our discussion. I would ask that you join us.”

Thor was choosing his words carefully but he wore everything on the outside. Right now, he looked guilty and it froze her stomach with trepidation. He put his arm around her shoulder and lead her into a common room where she was immediately met with five pairs of accusatory eyes. The Avengers were all staring at her, each with unmistakably unhappy expressions… except for one man who looked at her apologetically and handed her a coffee. She didn’t recognize him but, since there was one giant green team member noticeably absent, she could take a guess at who he was. She heard Thor shut the door behind them.

She swallowed. “So, what is this an intervention?”

“You could call it that, yeah.” It was a casual statement but the furious face of Tony Stark made the fear expand and it threatened to consume her. He walked over to some fancy transparent screen and started tapping away.

“I, personally, would love to know all about how you _broke into my house…_ but, apparently, we have to talk about this first.” Tapping a final time, he spun the screen around to show the rest of the room recorded security footage of Darcy giving Loki his bath.

“You filmed that?” It was a disgusted whisper that she sort of hoped nobody heard.

“Of course, we filmed it!” She jumped at the voice to her left belonging to Agent Barton. “He’s a fucking war criminal and you’re in there playing nanny!”

By the looks of him, sweating slightly and dog tired, Barton could also have been under whatever mind-control Loki had going. Yet, again, there was none of the keening sympathy. Just suffocating fear of the SHIELD-sanctioned ass reaming she knew she was in for.

“That’s point number one,” Stark continued, “Point number two: when I told Thor to give you the key to Loki’s restraints, not only was I under the impression you were actually some kind of medic, but I recall words along the line of ‘do not unchain him’.”

“You didn’t ask if I was a medic. And it was ‘don’t unchain him without cause’.” Her weak, breathy voice wasn’t impressing anybody and her hands began shaking. She was totally intimidated, everyone else was tall enough to look down on her. The panic she’d felt earlier that morning, when she’d ran into Captain America, was back with a vengeance. It was burning in her throat. Why had she even left Loki’s room? He was asleep - he wouldn’t have noticed her there.

“But you didn’t chain him back up!” She hadn’t even thought to. She looked to Thor but he was staring at the floor, face still plastered with guilt. He had trusted her to begin with but his comrades obviously didn’t agree. That hurt more than anything - just like Jane and Erik, they thought her unqualified and untrustworthy.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous Loki is? And you’re putting everyone else in danger, not just yourself.” Rogers’ voice was clipped and on edge, not the polite and sweet tones from earlier.

“H-he hasn’t hurt me. He’s not going to.” Her eyes flitted around the room, unable to look at anyone for long. She desperately wished her voice would come out steady. Even when she’d been nervous around the God of Mischief, she’d managed to sound less frightened than this. “And he can’t even s-stand up by himself. He can’t just… get up and walk around.”

“I can’t believe you’re going to stand there and defend this guy!” The hostility in Barton’s voice made her want to cry. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near him. You shouldn’t want to. He’s a murderer, a maniac, a monster and a bully!”

“He’s not! Well… okay, yeah, the first one, but… I- He’s… just lost.” There was an alarm bell sounding in her head, telling her she really _shouldn’t_ defend him; that Barton was right. He probably was all those things and there was something wrong with the fact that she didn’t care. But there was no strength in her to obey. She didn’t even want to.

“Are you really that naive? That irresponsible? To just trust him like that after all he’s done!?”

“You weren’t even authorized to be in there.”

“You’re too involved. What makes you think he isn’t controlling you too? Manipulating you so you’ll come out here and exonerate him?”

“Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t just hand you over to SHIELD for this?”

“I…” There was no answer. She couldn’t think of a reason. All she could feel was a lead weight in her chest. She couldn’t do anything but look down at her untouched coffee as tears spilled down her cheeks. Darcy was so helpless, surrounded by people who spoke against her. No matter how much she told herself they were right, she couldn’t accept it. It would by lying. She felt Thor’s hand brush her arm.

“What they mean to say, Darcy, is that they are worried for your safety…” 

_‘No, they’re not. They’re worried about shit hitting the fan if I get killed.’_

“… I am grateful for all that you have done, but you need not have done it. My brother deserves none of your kindness.”

“Doesn’t he?” She cried openly, pleading with Thor to understand. “Just because…” sniff, “… he’s a monster… doesn’t mean I have to be one.” An unrestrained sob, “I don’t have to sink to that level and treat him like crap.”

Silence, save her sniffing and sobbing. She could barely see through her tears.

“He’s so lost, Thor. Same as me.” The last part was a mere whisper but the truth of it was inescapable. Finally, Thor appeared to comprehend that she needed to help Loki as much as Loki needed the help.

How had she gotten in so deep in the space of 24 hours? She only knew that she couldn’t change her mind now. What was wrong about seeking out someone who’d understand her? Was it really so selfish to want to feel valued, even to a ‘monster’?

Thor said nothing in return and she couldn’t bear to look at the others’ and see the disapproval and rejection she knew would be there. These Avengers, in the guise of protecting her, wanted to send her back to being nobody. They would trade her self-worth for her safety, for their peace of mind. It tore at her, knowing that she would do the exact opposite.

“What will you do afterwards?” The guy that gave her the coffee had thus far been silent. He looked at her differently. Still disapproving but… with an air of experience of handling this kind of demon. But his question threw her off. Loki would go back to Asgard. He was a prisoner here and her safe place would, sooner or later, be taken away. Nothing she did would change that. She would become meaningless and forgotten no matter what happened, it was just a question of when.

“I… I don’t know.”

She really didn’t. But she wasn’t going to give in. She didn’t feel wrong. Just like Loki probably didn’t feel wrong. Only betrayed: these people claiming to be worried for her didn’t give a damn about how she felt. If Loki was the darkness, like everyone was trying to tell her, then she would run head-long into it. There was no place for her in the light.

Still with tears running down her face unchecked, she put the mug on a side table and ran away, not caring who saw her. And she ran all the harder when she failed to hear anyone follow to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, guys… I died writing this. The last part is based partially on experience. It was painful to write but hopefully it feels more real as a result. If it doesn’t, the shush. So yeah, death.


	6. Chapter 6

She’d bolted out of the common room, all the way downstairs and onto the ruined street outside. Darcy needed to get away, to be as far as possible from superheroes and government agencies and Norse gods… just to forget how much she felt like an inept, bumbling child.

In the aftermath of the invasion, a young woman wandering around weeping was not exactly out of the ordinary. So no-one batted an eyelid as she walked, just taking in all the destruction. That morning she’d been in a rush and had her mind on her job. But now, after it felt like all the world stood against her, everything was muted and numb. She stared past crumbled walls, carved up roads and even the occasional alien corpse still poking out of a wrecked car. Words like ‘naive’, ‘monster’ and ‘lost’ rattled and ricocheted in her head so loudly that she thought she’d go mad.

After drifting through the city for some time, she knew no-one was coming to look for her and found her way back to Stark Tower, this time with pizza. She had promised dinner after all. She didn’t dare use Thor’s card to get back in, using Erik’s instead, but still expecting some people in black suits and sunglasses to grab her as soon as she got over the threshold. Nothing of the sort happened and she went to the only place left where she could feel wanted.

It puzzled her why they had bothered confronting her at all; if she was so little a threat that they’d let her run off unimpeded, what did it matter if Loki hurt her or not? She noted bitterly that they could just be covering their asses, so that if something happened they could say they tried. It made her want to never leave Loki’s side again, even though she wouldn’t get a choice when Thor took him away. Then she would have little option other than lunacy but she didn’t give a damn. The warning bells were still there, desperately trying to tell that these were the thoughts of someone on the edge of a dark road. But they grew dimmer with every passing hour - Loki made her feel important. And if it was all a great lie to get her to do his bidding, then fine. She’d take it. She would run back to her God of Mischief and hide there. Would cling to him, do anything he asked, would kneel before him for as long as she could and try to figure out what she’d do without him.

Loki was still asleep when Darcy entered his room. Peacefully still and unaware of the havoc he was causing her. She didn’t have the heart to wake him up to eat. His hair had dried in the interim and, putting the pizza box down on one of the chairs, she couldn’t resist running the tips of her fingers over it. He sighed, turning his face towards her touch, but gave no sign of waking. 

Knowing she likely would no longer have a couch to sleep on upstairs, she ventured into one of the other infirmary rooms to see what her other options were. She soon realized that there was no-one in any of the other beds, that when Captain Rogers had watched her coming here there was nobody else she could have been seeing.

_‘I bet he tattled.’_

She stole a mattress and sheets and slid it through to Loki’s room. There was enough space for it without tripping over it with every step, but not so much that she wouldn’t feel close to him. The God of Mischief slept through the entire endeavour, even though Darcy lacked the physical strength to move it silently. She would be so embarrassed if all her heaving and puffing woke him up, though it might give them something else to laugh at.

Plopping herself down, she ate her half of the pizza and set about reading the books she’d given him. She’d wanted him to get a somewhat decent impression of ‘Midgardian’ literature, but had been limited for time and choice. She’d wait for him to waken with the boy wizard and Zaphod Beeblebrox but first would be, rather cheekily, a chunky volume on Viking mythology.

_‘Early of ages_

_when nothing was._

_There was neither sand nor sea_

_nor cold waves…’_

\--

“You’re just going to let her go?!” Steve Rogers was ready to bolt down the hall after the young girl but Thor was making sure he did no such thing.

“Darcy is no threat to us. She means no harm.” The God of Thunder had been taken aback when his comrades had asked she be removed from involvement with Loki. He had promised her safety and wanted his brother to have someone here to trust, even if it was not him. He trusted Darcy far more than any of these new allies; along with Jane and Erik, she had helped him find his feet on Earth and he had beamed inside when she’d offered the same selflessness to Loki. It pained him to bring her in front of the other Avengers to be chided in such a way and to know she felt as adrift as the fallen God of Mischief. The way she pleaded to him only convinced him further that she was the right person to try and sooth his brother. He would make sure she was able to do that, with or without SHIELD’s approval.

Rogers and Barton, however, seemed equally steadfast in doing the opposite and they continued to argue with him. Banner, ever divergent, sipped his coffee in the furthest corner and sighed.

“That went badly.”

\--

It was evening by the time Loki pulled himself out of sleep. The hot bath and a long nap had done wonders. He no longer felt dizzy or feverish, though a cursory stretch told him his ribs would still hinder him. He managed to pull himself further up into the pillows, with only a few twinges running through him. But the sight to his side made everything stop.

There was Darcy, curled up on a mattress on the floor, having fallen asleep half-way through a book.

 _‘What is she doing here?’_

Her face was pale and her eyes puffy, as if she’d cried extensively. Even in sleep she carried a melancholy expression, which seemed the strongest contrast to the contentedness she’d worn when she’d left. He did not know where she had gone in the meantime but he thought back to when she’d bolted in with lunch, panicked and flustered, and suspected Darcy had gotten herself into hot water. Or perhaps he had gotten her into trouble simply by association. It would hardly surprise him.

The thought of those ‘Avengers’ treating her with contempt created a coil of displeasure in his chest. The desire to keep her hidden and all to himself flashed once again before simmering into anger. He was not yet rested enough to use magic in order to ruin the day of whoever was responsible for her sorrow. But he could perhaps coax the details out of her later; he was unwilling to rouse her, just as she obviously had been so for him.

He did, however, notice that the room was cool now that he was gratefully without the sticky discomfort of fever. Darcy had left him a thick shirt of some sort at the foot of the bed, unfortunately just out of his reach without sitting up. To do so remained hideously painful but, with some endurance, his fingers brushed the material. Darcy had informed him it would not be ‘fancy’, nor was it. It was a soft grey jacket that seemed appropriate as neither a shirt nor as outer wear. But it was warming and fleecy on the inside, so on it went - albeit with a few gasps of pain - leaving the zip undone.

Many hours’ sleep had made him hungry and he was enticed by the warm scent of bread and herbs coming from a cardboard box on the floor. He chose to risk getting up by himself, which was… tolerable. A little unbalanced but there was no immediate danger of falling flat on his face. Bending down to pick up the box proved to be more of a stiff and achey process but, again, there was none of the dizziness from before. He was all set for the equally tender return journey upwards when her book caught his eye.

There were two others nearby which he could see were story books, fiction. But this one was lying open on a page he could not ignore: a brightly coloured, if somewhat literal, illustration of ‘The World Tree, Yggdrasil’. He’d known that humans had once worshipped the Aesir as gods but he had not realized they still produced and read literature on the subject. It intrigued him and he found it pleasant to think Darcy would wish to know more.

Pulling himself back upright, Loki made his way back to bed to examine the volume and the contents of the rather greasy box. Fearing a repeat of Thor’s offering at breakfast, he found an odd arrangement of flat bread, cheese and thin pieces of sausage. His companion had clearly not waited to eat her own share so it could not be that unpleasant.

Another hour or so passed until the girl finally rose from her sleep. They would both be awake until dawn with the amount of rest they’d had. She initially appeared not to know exactly where she was but her eyes found his, she sat up with a jolt.

“I brought you pizza, did you… Oh, you got it.” She seemed embarrassed at having nodded off and began patting and smoothing her hair into place. “Are you feeling better? You look better.”

She was pretending to be upbeat but he saw a fearful, almost bereaved, look on her face - as if she felt that once he was recovered he would no longer require her. The defensiveness he felt for her had not faded and it pained him to know he would eventually be forced to leave her behind. He wanted her as close to him as possible. It was a desire he was highly unfamiliar with, so much so that he almost did not trust it. But ever since she’d first stepped through his door, not once had she looked at him with deceit and he had to keep that.

“Indeed I am. You, however, are not… What has troubled you?”

She said nothing, save an unhappy squeak, and her eyes moved away from his to look at the floor. The cause of her melancholy also brought with it shame and he suspected his Darcy had been unduly reprimanded. His bitterness was fed by imagining Thor admonishing her and it burned a little in his chest. Loki had had more than enough of the golden son depriving him of what he wanted. 

“There is little need for you to be on the floor, Darcy.” He shifted over on the bed and left enough room for her to lie beside him, “Come, talk with me.”

Her face looked all at once surprised and delighted but with some small hesitation. He didn’t miss her eyes darting up towards one of the cameras in the corner and surmised she had gotten into trouble for over-familiarity with a prisoner. But she needed little in the way of coaxing and got up off her mattress, stopping only when she was standing by the bed.

“Th-they think you’re… brainwashing me.”

Such suspicion was to be expected, really, considering his actions in this realm. But without the sceptre he was unable to do that. If he had wanted to manipulate Darcy, he would have needed to do it the old-fashioned way. Did she fear that was what he was doing? Did she worry his acceptance was nothing but an illusion? He knew those insecurities well, he’d spent so long thinking the same of others.

“And if I were?”

“I don’t think you are. But I wouldn’t care.” She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes and climbed on to the bed. She lay down on her side and sank her head into the pillow. It being a bed not meant for two, there was considerable physical contact. Not that Loki was likely to complain. He could feel her hands resting on his arm and she curled in close. It stirred a possessiveness within him, made him want to shelter her from all misfortune. It was clear she did not want to discuss the criticism laid upon her and he decided to move on to the topic of this mythology book. The creation story was the one told to him as a child - it hinted at but scarcely began to cover the vast complexity of the universe. Many of the tales of the Aesir’s exploits were based on a grain of truth but had been so tremendously misconstrued it beggared belief. It would not do for her to absorb such false information. With a smirk he lifted the volume for them both to see.

“I have not told you any lies, Darcy, nor shall I. This text, however, is one fallacy after another.”

“Aww, no way. Not even the horse story?” A mellow smile showed her willing to play along with him.

“Especially not that.” He pretended to huff.

“Hmm, Thor told us the horse was real. With the eight legs. Explain that.”

“The beast exists: Sleipnir is a horse which I had bred as a gift for the All-Father. ‘Bred’ in the sense of having selected the sire and mare. Not via the method insinuated here.”

Darcy pouted and looked mildly disappointed but there was a sparkle in her eyes. The kind indicative of tricksters and mavericks. She was terrible at this game really, barely able to keep a straight face. Loki hadn’t expected to get so much enjoyment from it but she was infectious. He felt laughter bubbling in his throat and his mouth twitched.

“So not the wolf either then?”

“Fenrir was a canine in my possession. He proved too unruly for the palace.”

The lengthy conversation that followed covered almost every aspect of Scandinavian mythology, being at times oddly profound…

“Man, I’ll never look at a rainbow the same way again.”

…and at other times, downright silly.

“Get out! You didn’t tie a goat to your-”

“Everyone involved was drunk. Let us say no more.”

Loki immersed himself in storytelling and pulled this young woman further and further into his world. At one point he had turned on his side to properly see her reactions and was now incapable of looking away. She held him in place with light smiles and glittering eyes which urged him to tell her more.

It was well beyond the wee hours when Darcy fell asleep again, or by the time Loki noticed at least. He dropped his ‘unembellished’ anecdote in favour of staring at her unabashedly. She was so different from every other mortal he’d met. Where others were righteous, she accepted his amorality. He liked to think he soothed the same thing in her. He brushed his fingers against a loose curl by her chin and, though fearful of disturbing her, brought it up to his nose. She smelled clean and natural, and he took a deeper breath. Always in his mind was the knowledge that he would not be able to stay by her side, that she would be alone on Midgard without him. He swore to himself that, once he was recovered, he would use magic to keep her from harm. No matter what retribution Odin put upon him.

With a nervousness in his chest, one which had not been felt in what seemed like centuries, he placed his lips to her forehead. She did not stir and his heart stopped fluttering. He took the chance to breathe deep against her hair once more before pulling back and settling into his own untroubled sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Darcy and Loki spent the next few days in their own little bubble, talking about Asgard, Midgard and everything in between. Half his stories, she was certain, were yet more nonsense as she stared in to his eyes and learned how to discern fact from fiction. He was eloquent, focused and tactile; spinning tales for her while threading his fingers through her hair. The looks he gave her were raw and unfettered. She soon realized he was teaching her how to see through him and it struck her how special it made her to be given that privilege.

She recounted anecdotes to make him laugh, like how she had fed a boy in her fourth grade class laxatives mixed in with mints for making fun of her glasses. Or how the toaster had scared the shit out of Thor when she’d made him Poptarts. At first, Darcy had thought her mortal life too dull for the God of Mischief but she soon realized that the stories themselves didn’t matter, that he was staring at her the same way she did at him. He was taking every opportunity to memorize each emotion as it passed through her face, memorizing her. It was magnificent and exalting.

Darcy had to regularly - reluctantly - leave their safe haven for meals, getting through the profusion of earthly cuisines available in take-out form. She never dawdled along the way, though she occasionally overheard strings of science floating out from the common room. Much like working with Jane, she didn’t understand much and ignored it. On a few instances she heard Thor angrily debating with various other people she didn’t know. She could make out that the God of Thunder was using his weight as an Avenger and a prince of Asgard to get SHIELD to cut her slack. Though it made her a little guilty that Thor was backing her cause alone, she only used it as motivation to stick close to his brother.

At one point she heard Erik’s voice mingling with Stark’s and Banner’s, talking about the Bifrost. The door was ajar and she peered through it, noting how, though he was still haggard looking, Selvig had needed no help from her to get better.. The last time she’d visited him, she had been somewhat perturbed by her distinct lack of desire to return to normal. Now, the sensation flowed through her with no resistance and she flounced back to the infirmary floor.

She still fretted that a recovered Loki would find no further use for her. But as he grew stronger and steadier, he pulled her ever closer. And she was happy to follow. He insisted that she sleep by his side, eventually having her lay her head on his chest while he played with her hair. She’d thought that she would become too hot in such proximity but that seemed not to be a problem. Once the fever had vanished, Loki was at a constant, comfortable temperature. She fit against him flawlessly and being tucked into him was simply the most perfect place in the world.

On one evening, as their idle talk petered out and she felt him drifting off to sleep, she finally voiced the one question that she had, up until then, been avoiding. She knew it might well shatter their cosy security with one another, but it had kept chirruping away in her mind. She had to know.

“What happened to you? On Asgard… when Thor got banished here?”

It seemed as if he stopped breathing, stopped moving altogether, as if he were reliving it in his thoughts. Forever seemed to pass with no response and she was not going to force him into talking about it. He, after all, had not made her clarify what had brought her to this room crying and sniffing. It was on the tip of her tongue to assure him it was alright not to discuss it when he spoke.

“I… am not the man I once thought.”

He remained unnaturally still but she could hear his heart beating beneath her. She felt all the tension in him trying to suffocate his words and the hand that had been resting on her shoulder gripped her tightly, as if hanging on for dear life.

“When Thor was banished here, it was revealed to me… all that which I aspired to be is eternally beyond my grasp. What damns me cannot be altered. Thor may call me ‘brother’ until the end of the universe but it will not make it so.”

He swallowed and she felt it was the end of that topic. She curled further into him to try and get him to relax again but one last thing flew from him so softly she might have imagined it.

“It is in my nature to be betrayed.”

Darcy knew what that felt like, for mistrust to envelope you from all directions, to think nobody had your back. Even though Loki was surely faced with torment on a much larger scale, she knew it was a soul-wrenching sensation. It consumed you from the inside out and pangs of heartache ran through her knowing even gods were not immune to it. She put her hand on his stomach and gently placed a kiss to his chest. He was still wearing that hoodie and, even if he noticed nothing, her lips tingled. He sighed and his clasping hand relaxed, stroking her shoulder.

“You know I won’t do that, right? Betray you, I mean. You’re the first person in so long who hasn’t made me feel useless.”

Her confession invoked a short sigh of someone not wishing to get his hopes up. The fingers on her shoulder trailed upwards to the hair resting by her neck.

“Well, if that remains true, I shall be yours until the end of days.”

There could only be one answer. “I promise.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and felt him press a firm kiss to the crown of her head. Her heart swelled and they both settled down to sleep.

\--

Darcy felt like she’d slept for a century. She knew it was late as she woke up, probably well beyond breakfast time, but she didn’t really want to move from cuddling Loki’s side. It took a few moments to realize that, not only was the bed cooler and rather more spacious than it ought to be, but the chest she’d been tucked against was missing. Confused, she pried her eyes open and sat up.

No Loki.

He was nowhere in the room and the bathroom door was wide open, with no-one inside. The remnants of armour that had been lying in a corner were gone and his helmet was missing from the chair. In its place were the clothes she’d bought for him to use, folded neatly with one of the books on top. The chair opposite carried the duffel bag she’d taken from the penthouse, filled with her own clothes and the bathroom stuff.

She was instantly numb. Loki was gone, taken back to Asgard, without knowing if she would ever see him again. There had been no last moments, no farewell. And she was expected to just carry on like normal, as if the most important person in her world had not just disappeared in the night. Everything was falling out from underneath her and she was struggling to stop herself crying when the wretched hissing announced someone opening the door.

The incoming agent, who identified himself as Sitwell, calmly instructed her to gather her things and make her way down to a conference room to be debriefed. Shakily making her way about the room, she noted that it was past noon - much later than she’d thought. Without compunction, she packed Loki’s things into the bag with her own. She wanted as much as possible to remember him by. The book was the volume on Norse myth but it seemed somehow different. She had no idea where the other two had gone but she’d read them already, they weren’t important. The book that was left, she could have sworn, did not have gold gilded lettering and had been slightly cheap looking. Now the entire object seemed to have increased in quality and Darcy knew, just knew, that Loki left this for her. She wanted to open it and see if the contents had changed too, but Agent Sitwell was still waiting for her by the door so she stuffed it in the bag too and headed for the elevator.

The frantic teary-eyed sorrow was washed away by bitterness. Thor took Loki away from her, without saying goodbye, without giving a damn how she’d feel. She was filled with urges, whispers in the back of her head, with a distinct tinge of malevolent mischief. She wondered if Loki had these things in his mind too, or if this is what the Vikings had thought Loki was: all the brilliantly bad ideas people imagine.

_‘I should push all the elevator buttons.’ … ‘It’d be hilarious if this ass-hat tripped on the carpet.’ … ‘I’m totally taking home Thor and Erik’s key-cards. See if they work at the SHIELD base back home.’_

The conference she was lead into was packed full of people, agents and civilians, and it hummed with noise. She saw a long line to, apparently, sign a bunch of release forms and started towards it but Sitwell herded her to another agent with a much more significant pile of paperwork. While she ought to have been worried about getting arrested, or whatever this shadowy agency did to people, all she could think about was that they might take her book. She knew Loki could use magic, though she’d never witnessed any, and wondered dreamily if he’d enchanted it. It was special and just for her, she’d never let any of these dull, facile drones touch her book. And she hadn’t even looked inside it yet.

“Miss Lewis, this is a non-disclosure agreement regarding your involvement with our organization and other recent events. We require you to read and sign it….”

The agent prattled on but Darcy was already tuning it all out. It was a gagging order, likely very similar to the one she’d been made to sign when SHIELD moved into Jane’s territory. There were several copies to be signed, all of which seemed destined for different departments. She also saw a manila folder with her photograph and lots of details but poking out beneath that was a report which seemed to analyze her dealings with Loki of Asgard. She’d figured she’d be put on some kind of list, if she wasn’t there already, but she found she desperately wanted to know what it said.

“… and this is your ticket for the 1635 flight to Albuquerque. One of our agents will escort you downstairs where a taxi will be waiting. Thank you for your co-operation.”

The bedraggled agent turned from her to put some of the signed forms in trays and boxes for filing. When she went for the coffee machine in the corner of the room, Darcy heard the little voice in her head telling her to take that report. It sounded like her but not so discernible, somewhat warped and twisted. It urged her arm forward without consent from the rest of her body. She couldn’t stop it… or wouldn’t, she wasn’t sure. No-one seemed to notice her putting the report in her bag so she grabbed the tickets and left, trying not to look too hasty.

She held her emotions in check until halfway through the flight, when it felt like everything was over and she cried.

\--

Puente Antiguo was the same hole in the ground it had been when she’d left. Darcy had slotted back into working with Jane and none of that had changed either. Her life still consisted of fetching snacks and filing and copying, and generally feeling like a third wheel. She never mentioned Loki, or Thor, to Jane. It would only end in another interrogation, coupled with shouting and disappointed looks. And if Erik had been told, of which she was almost certain, he said nothing. He still treated her cooly but now without the exasperated condescension and she supposed that was an improvement.

For as much as everything had remained the same, Darcy herself seemed different. The monotony was now interspersed with little bits of what could only be described as good luck falling her way. Like her toast landing butter side up. Or the notes she had been sent to search for turning out to be second in the pile. Life just seemed to run smoother and she began to suspect it wasn’t coincidence. At least once a day, Jane would knock over or walk into something. On one occasion, after Darcy received a rather snappy reprimand, the microwave burst into flames upon use. That had been particularly satisfying karma.

And her dreams! Some nights she was cuddled back under Loki’s arm, his hand twiddling her hair, while they swapped stories. Others, she dreamt of sweat and heat, with his weight over her. The wondrous feeling of their hands running across one another, even though just nighttime fantasy, gave her unrivaled ecstasy.

She tried not to illusion herself. Over and over she told herself it was silly to think Loki was watching out for her all the way across space. It might have been possible to convince herself that it was little more than her imagination but there was one thing she could not deny - her book. It certainly had been enchanted, though it took her a couple of days to notice. With anyone else present, it did a fat lot of nothing. It was just a fancy-looking book on Norse mythology. But once Darcy was on her own the illustrations would come to life, re-enacting the scenes they depicted. Thor wielded lightning, Frigga smiled knowingly and Odin remained motionless circled by flying ravens. The Loki picture, though it looked nothing like him, would wink at her from whatever hijinks he was causing.

It allowed her feelings of being exceptional, of being somebody, to remain glowing brightly inside her. And that meant there was little room for sympathy or guilt over being slightly responsible for everyone around her suddenly becoming a klutz. Nor did she help matters by indulging in a bit of, relatively harmless, mischief on her own. Swapping the sugar with salt, hiding things, jumping out and scaring the others, slackening bolts on chairs. She was quite happy to skip down the shadowed path the God of Mischief had started her on.

It was so absolute to her, so irreversible, yet also invisible. The casual observer could not determine the breadth of the gap now between the two women curled up on the rooftop sunloungers: one mumbling sleepily about experimental this and theoretical that, the other pouring over her favourite book. Jane had long ago given up trying to figure out what had her so entranced, just like she no longer wondered about why Darcy was so attached to the over-large grey hoodie. It had been no lie when she’d said she’d gotten it at a thrift store and that she enjoyed how it smelled. If only Jane knew.

As Dr Foster finally floated into sleep, and the flickering motion in the illustrations began, Darcy fished out from under her mattress the copy of the report she’d stolen from SHIELD. Although she had spotted the unmarked SUV with tinted windows that lurked around the corner suspiciously often, she wasn’t an idiot - there had to be several copies or else some goons would have come battering down their door by now. Her having this one was probably of little consequence. Nonetheless it felt remarkably, marvelously vindictive to cast the dossier into the fire, page by page. It detailed just about every step she’d taken from the moment she’d entered Loki’s room to the night before he left. It talked about Lima syndrome, manipulation and suggestion both magical and otherwise. It generally painted neither Darcy or Loki in a favourable light and wasn’t something she wanted anyone else to read. So in order to deny it, she burned it.

She missed her God of Mischief terribly, as much as Jane missed her own deity but with perhaps a tad more patience than her workaholic boss. But she would wait. So long as they searched for a way to reopen the Bifrost, so long as Jane would find Thor, she knew she would see Loki again. She gazed up at the stars for a moment, before turning the page and restarting the stories anew.

_“It happened right at the beginning, when the gods were settling. After they had established Midgard and built Valhalla, a smith arrived…”_


End file.
